


The Sunflower Sensation

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26310325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: To Eita, they mean so much more. Whenever he brushes against the tips of their delicate petals, he feels that familiar explosion of brilliance—one that sends warmth rushing through his veins and elation bursting in his chest.Which is why when Reon hands him the single, wilted sunflower, Eita can’t help the wave of concern that tides over him.--Semi Eita works in a flower-coffee hybrid shop with his two closest friends. The trio have a system, and Eita's job is special: he communicates with plants, listens to their musings, and gives them what they need, whether it be water or sunlight. He's never had any trouble—that is, until he's given a single, dying sunflower.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	The Sunflower Sensation

"Lavender chamomile? That's a wonderful choice," Hayato croons, winking at the young woman on the other side of the counter. "It's fragrant, soothing, and puts you right to sleep if you take it an hour before bed." He leans in close, as if whispering a secret, "If you want my recommendation, it tastes best on a cloudy day with a good book by your side."

The young woman appears sold on his spiel, nodding fervently with a fierce blush lining her face, but Eita snorts loudly, causing Reon, who’s crouched next to him, to nudge his shoulder, though the wobbly smile on his face indicates his mutual amusement. Hayato doesn't seem fazed, retaining his charming smile while handing over their customer's change and a bag of tea, and waves her off. It isn't until the bell rings from the front of the store that his face sours, and he leans over to throw them a glare.

"Sorry, man," Eita snorts. He caresses a lavender petal, feeling its petals shake with restrained laughter. There's a tinkling sensation that sparks a small burst of fireworks in his chest, pooling contentment in his stomach. "I can't help it if you sound like a bad TV advertisement."

This time, Reon can't help the slight chuckle that slips from his lips. He carefully lifts a sprig of lavender, and with a nod from Eita, snips it from the plant, carefully pocketing it into his apron. Hayato's face pinches, and he turns up his nose.

"Say whatever you want but never doubt—" He gestures to his face with mock narcissism. "—this pretty face and unmistakable charm."

There's a moment of incredulous silence from Eita and Reon, who stare at him with wide eyes and raised brows. Then, they burst into laughter, catching the attention of a few customers in the front of the shop, some of whom watch them with bemused smiles hidden behind billowing steam and delicate porcelain.

\-- 

Sunflowers are meant to shine. They're meant to light up a room with a roaring vivacity that rivals the sun. Their petals, made from rays of sunshine, carry a vitality that can brighten anyone’s day.

To Eita, they mean so much more. Whenever he brushes against the tips of their delicate petals, he feels that familiar explosion of brilliance—one that sends warmth rushing through his veins and elation bursting in his chest.

Though he’s the only one who can feel these types of messages, he knows that sunflowers hold their own effect as they stand tall and proud among the various plants in their shop. It’s one of the reasons why they make popular decorations in the customer-designated area. Their presence noticeably brightens a room, even more so on a cloudy day.

Which is why when Reon hands him the single, wilted sunflower, Eita can’t help the wave of concern that tides over him.

\--

"What's wrong with this one?" Reon peers over Eita's shoulder, lips pursed in confusion. The flower that rests in his hand is limp, and its normally vibrant petals sit wilted against Eita's palm. 

Eita shakes his head in answer but pulls the flower close to inspect its subdued colors. He runs a finger down a petal. "What do you need?" he murmurs, trying to coax an answer out of the obstinate flower. The cavern in his chest remains empty, no sign of life.

The plant remains stubbornly silent, and Eita shakes his head at Reon, whose brows furrowing in concern. He opens his mouth, but a call from the counter breaks their concentration. 

"One raspberry hibiscus tea and one mint concoction!"

Reon sends Eita and the flower an apologetic smile. "That’s me."

Eita waves him off. "It's ok. I can get this."

\--

The stepladder wobbles beneath his feet, and Eita glances down to see Hayato switching his attention between his customer and Eita, who’s balanced precariously a few feet above them. He’s nervous—Eita can tell from the way he bites down on his bottom lip. Reon, who’s next to Hayato, pays no mind as he hums an unfamiliar tune, hands bagging dried tea leaves.

Eita lifts the small watering can and carefully tips it so that water can lightly sprinkle onto the succulents. The ladder wobbles, and the baubles of succulents tinker against each other. He sets the watering can down on the top step, ignoring the nervous lilt in Hayato’s tone and Reon’s passing glance. 

It’s one of his favorite parts of the day—watering the succulents. He reaches over and brushes a finger against the waxy surface. There’s a delighted airiness that tickles his fingertip, and he can’t help the slight chuckle that slips from his throat.

It fades as he pulls away, and he sighs, shaking his head at the succulents’ childish charm. With one hand holding the watering can, he begins to climb down. The ladder rocks, and water sloshes around in the can—a few drops splatter onto the counter, and Hayato throws him a weary look. Reon merely wipes the water droplets away with the hem of his apron and resumes packing tea leaf combinations.

As Eita passes a row of daylilies, his gaze wanders to the sunflowers that sit in the center of the customer area, currently surrounded by two children who poke at their petals. His mind flashes to the lone sunflower that sits in the back, and the echo of the succulents’ giddy exhilaration fades completely. 

\--

“I don’t get it,” he grumbles. The sun peeks over the horizon, and Hayato dries their porcelain cups and teapots as they prepare for opening. Reon stands with his back against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

Eita exhales sharply, forehead wrinkling as his thoughts flutter to the lone sunflower that sits in the sunlight. They’d all come to the same conclusion that the flower must not have gotten enough sunlight.

But even with the rays of sunlight that embrace the flower in a golden cloak, it continues to wilt. The stem that's supposed to stand strong and proud, droops toward the hardwood, and the leaves seem to melt off the flower. A lone petal flutters to the ground.

"Is it sick?" Reon asks. His expression is just as troubled, and Eita nods in affirmation.

"It is, but I don't know what's making it sick. It won't talk to me. Do you know what that means?" Even if it's a rhetorical question, Hayato opens his mouth to answer before Reon throws him a look that stops his response. Eita continues, "It means I can't do a damn thing about it. I don't know what it needs: water? Sunlight? Fertilizer? What do you need?" He aims the last question toward the plant, as if waiting for an explanation.

It gives no response.

\--

"You know it's not your fault." Reon nudges at Eita's shoulder as he packs dried apples, hibiscus, and other dried herbs into small bags. "Whatever's making the flower sick isn't your fault."

Eita exhales sharply and nearly snips off a white rose at Reon's unannounced jostle. Its petals are soft, almost velvety, and at his near miss, he feels a spike of emotion through his chest. His heart's steady beat quickens into a staccato rush, and he sucks in his lips. The pruning can wait until it calms down.

"I know," he responds, sighing heavily. Careful in his movements, he slides the roses away and pulls the pot of peonies toward him. The lingering anxiety from the rose melts into an indignant twinge before becoming overshadowed by the careless glee that warms his chest. “Do you mind?” He gestures at the roses.

Reon immediately understands and pulls the roses closer, picking up another pair of scissors. He cocks his head up to eye Eita. “Which one is ready?”

“The middle one is stubborn. Get the one on the right—it wants to go into the bouquet for that grandmother.” 

There’s a slight snip, and Reon catches the rose before it can collide with the table, careful not to injure himself on any of the thorns. Sliding on a pair of gloves, he begins to flick his wrist with expertise; three years working at the shop can turn anyone into a pro at dethorning roses.

They work in silence: Eita, sprucing up the bundle of peonies, Reon, dethorning roses. With the peonies finished, he slides them to the side and yanks a bucket of hibiscus flowers onto the table. He takes a step back, breathing deeply to reset the magic that’d seeped from his flowers. Gradually, he feels all emotions bleed from his body: giddiness from the peonies and indignation and pride from the white roses.

Only a faint hint is left when he heaves a sigh. Before he starts on the hibiscus flowers, he leans forward, setting his elbows on the wooden table, cradling his head in his palms.

“I don’t get it.” He unintentionally spits out the last two words. The dying sunflower sits facing the sun. Its pot overflows with nutrients and fertilizer, and there’s an adequate amount of water—Eita knows this because he’s done this over a thousand times. Yet, it remains silent. “What do you want?”

His hands, though covered with flecks of dirt, reach up and grip his hair. An exasperated, helpless groan pulls at his gut, and he sinks onto the bench.

From this angle, he can see the sunlight. He can see it flood through the window, tiding over the deep, canary petals and the wilting, wrinkling stem. Its leaves hang by the barest thread of life, edging closer and closer to the pit of eternal silence. The silence it emits now—a stagnant sort of silence—leaves Eita questioning his abilities.

“Hey, don’t beat yourself over this.” Though there’s a slight huff of laughter from Reon, his austere words echo with a stern ring. “You can’t save everything.” These words are said more quietly.

“I know.” Eita feels as if he’s said this over the past few days toward everyone who’s tried to comfort him or offer him advice. “I just—” He cards a dirty hand through his fingers, and pulls it back out to stare at the soil with his nose scrunched. “I don’t like the feeling,” he finishes.

Reon hums, and its meaning is clear: _Please elaborate._

“I’ve had to deal with silent plants before,” he says, “and I just hate how it’s almost like they’ve given up the will to live. Almost like—they’re just waiting to die.”

“Waiting to die? That sounds morbid,” Hayato sweeps into the back, carrying a tray of porcelain cups and two teapots. Then, noticing their grim faces, he backpedals, “Sorry.” With a gentle clatter, he sets the tray next to the sink and gestures awkwardly toward the front. “Someone needs help with their bouquet choice.” There’s a silent ‘ _that means it’s for you_ ’ meant for Eita.

Eita throws another wistful gaze at the dying sunflower and rises, rubbing his palms against his apron. Before he disappears through the curtain, he hears Reon call, “Just wait—we’ll figure it out together.”

\--

His answer comes in the form of Michimiya Yui.

Eita stands to Hayato’s side, carefully spraying a spider plant that hangs low from the ceiling. Like its namesake, the plant is skittish, foliage twitching ever so slightly as Eita points the nozzle at its hanging leaves. Just underneath the plant sits the wilting sunflower.

As usual, Hayato mans the counter and with no customers around, he slumps over the marble counter, careful to avoid the small clumps of soil. The bell jingles from the front, and he reluctantly pushes himself up. When he sees a familiar sunny smile, he breaks into a wide, flashing grin. 

“Morning,” he greets. “The usual?”

Michimiya puts a finger to her bottom lip, as if tasting for an answer. Before she can say anything, the curtain pushes aside and Reon appears, dusting off his apron. He glances up and pauses when he notices her. 

“The usual?” he asks, breaking into a wide smile.

Joining in on the fun, Eita glances at her with a growing grin. “Yeah, the usual?” he teases. She lets out a delighted laugh, loud and tinkling.

And that’s when he feels it: a slight pull from the plant before him.

At first, he thinks he’s mistaken, and he stares wide-eyed at the sunflower, a faint roar in his ears. Though Hayato stands next to him, his voice seems miles away. He must crack a joke because Michimiya laughs again, and she stifles her smile with one hand.

The tugging intensifies, and Semi reaches over, hand pausing midair in caution, and finally strokes a lone petal.

The emotion that seeps into his chest isn’t an explosion of fireworks like it is with some plants. Nor is it that intense burn that comes from others. This is a slow ember of warmth that tugs on his heartstrings.

He almost wants to cry. It’s near impossible to explain, but if he could, he’d equate it to drinking a mug of honey and milk on a cold winter night. Or that slow warmth that comes from the sun as it peeks over the cityscape, its rays of sunlight pouring onto the streets in cascades of yellows and golds. It’s a soft sigh of satisfaction that comes from patience and endurance, and it’s just _so_ warm and kind.

“—Eita—” A hand waves in front of his face, and he blinks and starts to see Hayato staring at him in concern. Michimiya watches him curiously, just as Reon appears from behind the curtain with a steaming to-go cup in one hand. With a faint curl to his lips and his brows raised, he takes one knowing look at Eita, then at the sunflower.

“You have your answer,” Reon says.

Eita breaks into a brilliant smile, throws his head back, and laughs.

\--

The sunflower sits in the center of the shop, surrounded by patrons and customers and swathed in a blanket of sunlight. Three small children race around it, tagging each other with elated laughter that echoes through the shop.

Eita watches them, a smile playing on his lips. From the back, he can hear Hayato humming an unfamiliar melody as he washes the mugs, the telltale clink of porcelain underneath the faint rush of running water. To his side, Reon measures out tea leaves, mumbling quietly and scribbling numbers into his small notebook. The baubles above him tinker as they sway, and Eita has never felt more at peace.

One of the children pauses mid-run and stares wide-eyed at the sunflower. Curiosity overcoming her expression, the child reaches up to press a finger against the long stem, and curiosity gives way to wonder. A blinding smile crosses her small face, and she blinks in amazement.

Eita huffs a small laugh.

He knows exactly how she feels.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this was my piece for the Haikyuu!! Urban Magic Zine! I had a blast writing this piece over the spring, and you can download the PDF [here](https://hqmagiczine.tumblr.com/post/622817349366595584/pdf-release). It was an honor to work with so many talented artists and writers, so please go check out their works!
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/ostenreal) or [tumblr](http://shrimpyboke.tumblr.com).


End file.
